


The Worst Valentine's Day Ever

by darnedchild



Series: Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Winter 2019 [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, It's not a date, but it's kind of a date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darnedchild/pseuds/darnedchild
Summary: MHAW Winter 2019 Day 5 : Valentine's Day.  It was going to be the worst Valentine's Day ever.





	The Worst Valentine's Day Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm an idiot, I decided to write seven fics in seven hours so I could participate in the Winter 2019 MHAW back in February, and I waited until the absolute last minute. So here you go, not beta'd because I was in a hurry at the time and now I'm just lazy.

**The Worst Valentine's Day Ever**

It was going to be the worst Valentine’s Day ever. 

Molly stared at the pair of concert tickets that were stuck to the refrigerator door. She and Tom had bought the tickets ages ago, back when they’d still been a couple.

She’d ask Meena to go with her, make a Galentine’s Day thing of it, but Meena had scored a Valentine’s date at the last minute and now Molly was left to go solo.

Or she could stay home with a bottle of mid-priced red wine and binge watch something on Netflix.

Her doorbell rang and Molly gave one last disgruntled look toward the tickets before she went to answer it.

“Sherlock? What are you doing here?”

He pushed past her and yanked open her hall closet. “No time to explain. I need your help on a case. Here’s your coat. Where’s your keys?” He shoved her coat at her and yanked her keys out of the bowl next to her door. “Come along, we’ve got places to be.”

Next thing she knew, she was being hustled out the door and into a waiting cab.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

Greg seemed rather surprised to see her at the first crime scene, a bakery that still smelled like fresh bread and biscuits; but he recovered well and just shrugged when Sherlock said she was with him.

The murder seemed simple enough, as far as murders went. Carving knife to the throat, downward strike coming from the left-hand side. Sherlock concurred and she could tell he already had a suspect in mind within five minutes of viewing the victim. He’d handed her a chocolate chip biscuit to nibble on as he’d discussed things with Greg. When no one seemed to object, she went ahead and ate it. 

Hopkins treated her like she was part of the usual crowd at a museum break in. Molly suspected Sherlock knew exactly which employee had been the inside man from the beginning, but he’d still insisted on spending an hour strolling through a temporary traveling exhibit (which she appreciated as she’d been meaning to go but hadn’t managed to find the time).

Dimmock asked why she was tagging along when they arrived at the scene of yet another murder sometime after midnight.

“I honestly have no idea.”

She was so tired by the time Sherlock finally dragged her home that she nearly fell asleep with her head on his shoulder in the taxi. He walked her to the door and waited until she managed to unlock it before saying goodnight.

“Sherlock?”

“Hmm?”

“I know what you did. Tonight.”

He frowned. “Pardon?”

“Getting me out of the house. Not letting me sit around feeling sorry for myself because I’m single on Valentine’s Day.”

“Was that today?” He tried and failed to look innocent.

“It was, yes.” Molly reached out and grasped his scarf in both of her hands. She pulled him down just enough so that she could press her lips to his cheek. “Thank you, Sherlock.”

He took a step back as soon as she released him, the merest hint of a smile on his lips. “You’re welcome, Molly.”


End file.
